Sinning Successfully
by Claire Darcy
Summary: This was a project I did for English. Kind of a spoof on Dante's Inferno...
1. Welcome

Dr. Gregory House, M.D.

All of your life has been spent in misery, whether it was your childhood, through the infarction, or after, now that you are confined to the label of _cripple_ for the rest of time. Now, you have the chance to see your fate. See the first circle, where the masochists are trapped in the heat of their own desire for pain; the second circle, where the possessive meet their retribution; and the deepest circle, where you, Dr. House, would find the inhabitants lowly for being dictated by their fiery desire. Watch where you tread, there are troubled waters before 

you.

"**Being miserable doesn't make you better than anybody else, House. It just makes you miserable."**


	2. Masochism

Masochism

_Disregarded Desires  
_  
She sits across from you, and though you'd never admit it, she is _stunning._ Her rich auburn hair, faintly curled and catching the light, just barely grazes her slender shoulders. You've been trying not to think about the simple black dress she's got on. Those weathered hazel eyes peer at you from beneath a mask of makeup you're sure you've never seen before in the very public hallways of the hospital. Your knees brush hers unconsciously under the small table, and even in the dim light of the restaurant, you can see the flush coloring her otherwise pale cheeks. She makes a futile attempt at idle chitchat, but before the waiter has even returned for your dinner order, you're shooting a string of brash excuses at her. _'I'm too old for you, I am not attractive, and I'm damaged,'_ as well as the unmentioned; you're still holding out on the hope that Stacy will come back, on her knees, begging forgiveness. But no matter how hard you try, you can't erase the image of the crystalline tears that line her eyes and smudge her mascara at your words.

Nearly a year after the disastrous date with Cameron, Stacy has returned, and though both of you are denying it right through your teeth, you've gone back to where you started before she left you. Save for the fact that she's married to a cripple (you try your best to avoid noting how ironic this is), or that you've grown cold and bitter since she walked out (and a drug addict, Cuddy would add. But you're in pain – they wouldn't know). Everything starts moving so uncontrollably fast and before you're even aware of it, she's telling you that she is planning on leaving Mark, that she wants to be with you. And it's your past all over again. You thought that this was what you wanted; Stacy was coming back to you, and things were going be like before, when you were happy. Except you still can't walk (or play golf, for that matter). It's not the first time you've disregarded your desires, but you find yourself in her office, concentrating on an obscure streetlight outside as you tell her to go home with Mark.

Because you can't make her happy.

_Welcome to the first level of the first circle. Because you have willingly alienated the two people who have chosen to love you, you will be an eternal slave to your mind. In life you'd rather dream about your heart's desire, so in death, you will be taunted by your vision in that every time you see your love, she will disappear before you can reach her, as a mirage does to those hopelessly lost in the unforgiving deserts.  
_

_Self-Inflicted Pain  
_  
The tiny glass bottle sits on your desk, unassuming. You're positive that the contents can't speak, yet the liquid seems to be calling your name almost tauntingly. The sterile syringe lies beside it, the starchy white of the packaging contrasting sharply against the dark wood of your desk. The blinds have been pulled shut, blocking out the world on the other side of the glass walls. You know that what you've got in mind is incredibly stupid, but you want nothing more than to get Stacy out of your head, and, more to the point, prove 'von Lieberman' wrong. His achievements hold nothing to yours. The needle slips into your skin smoothly, but your breath still hitches slightly at the pressure as it releases the Nitroglycerine into your veins. Your breaths come evenly as you wait for the promised pain. Eyes locked on something in the middle distance, you are vaguely aware of Cameron's entrance. She's updating you on the patient's status when it hits you; an unbelievable burning inside your skull, just behind your pretty blue eyes. Cameron's worry doesn't disappear even after you cheerily (enough, under the circumstances) inform her that you're having a migraine. You don't say anything as she glances disapprovingly at the tiny glass bottle on your desk.

Later, as Wilson storms into your office with conscious boisterousness, you do your best to appear even more pathetic than normal. There is no way he can miss the extra weight you put on your cane as you hobble towards the red coffee mug on the other side of the room. And then he's off psychoanalyzing you again, absolutely sure you've done this because of Stacy (he's not completely wrong).

_Next time you need to get your mind off something, stick a needle in your eye. It's less annoying to the rest of us when you can still walk._

Thank you, Doctor Wilson.

_You've entered the second level of the first circle. The raging desert sun will forever char your delicate skin, as you tow a weight behind you, the merciless hooks piercing your skin to the bone. You'll be driven by pain in death as you were in life._

  
****

"Let it burn, so I can feel my life fade." 


	3. Possession

Possession  
_  
Envious of a Subordinate_

You can smell it on her when you step into the elevator. She isn't fooling anyone with her little disguise. You know she isn't hung over, but you suggest it for her benefit. Her eyes are glassy and her voice is husky when she asks you about your rat (you ask her if she's jealous). It isn't until the two of you enter the conference room that you're sure about your diagnosis; Chase is acting strangely as well, and is obscenely conspicuous in his attempt to keep his eyes away from Cameron. Instead of humiliating them in front of Foreman (who is oblivious, as always), which would be your course of action of choice, you wait until Cameron has left for the lab to test HIV-boy's tumor. You stand outside, watching as she attempts to run titers with shaking hands. You can admit to being shocked – worried, even – when she was exposed to HIV, but even that doesn't warrant this kind of screw-up. Once she's leaned down to peer into the microscope, you barge in, taking a perverse pleasure in the way her slight shoulders jerk in acknowledgement.

"So." You pause, allowing the tension to knot in her stomach. "You slept with him." Her sigh sounds pained as she takes a step back to face you, carefully removing her glasses.

"It's none of your business," she returns evenly. It's a bit of a disappointment that she isn't astounded you managed to figure it out.

"It is if you did it to make me jealous," you counter. You know you fully deserve the glare she levels at you once the words leave your lips. You don't even mention the HIV-boy's Meth samples are missing. She asks why you'd bother being jealous of Chase, who, aside from having great hair, has absolutely no redeeming qualities. It's a few minutes before you've come up with a clever response, but by that time, you've locked yourself in your office, with the full intent of spending the rest of the day watching General Hospital.

_Welcome to the first level of the second circle. Because you spent your life envious of one below you in rank, you'll spend your death governed by him in everything. You let him control your emotions, now let him control your actions.  
_

_  
Envious of a Friend_

You always knew, or so you claim. You try to feign indifference when you arrive home late, only to find Cameron and Wilson (_Jimmy_) caught in a not-so-innocent embrace. On your sofa. It's a few days before it even occurs to you to have been offended. But there is your best (and only) friend, suggestively attached to your intern. You decide to leave, the unspoken command that he gather his things and vacate your apartment heavily tainting the air.

The next time you see him he's idly waiting for change from the cashier in the cafeteria. You've both learned how to avoid each other in the hallways, and a mere three weeks after the incriminating event, it's almost as though you never knew each other. Never mind the intense loneliness you feel invading your every thought. And even though you would like nothing more than to have Wilson back beside you, gallantly defending you in the face of danger (Cuddy), you're much too stubborn to allow forgiveness when your trust has been smashed this badly.

Again.

_You've entered the second level of the second circle. In life, you let yourself be swallowed by jealousy and lost the ever-comforting light of friendship. In death, you'll spend eternity in the damp dungeons of Hell, consumed by the unforgiving darkness.  
_

**  


**

"Should've known better than to cheat a friend." 


	4. Desire

Desire  
_  
Want_

It's only natural, you've told yourself. After all, you convinced her (and yourself) that you only hired because she looks good(lobby art, you called her). Two years have passed since she'd huffed indignantly out of your office, clearly offended (you'd meant it as a compliment) – two years in which she was able to get over her infatuation with you. Two years in which you were able to stop pining over Stacy. Now, she stands, flushed, in the conference room between Chase and Foreman curious as to why you pulled the three of them from the party downstairs. And it takes you a full minute to get your jaw up off the floor. The lovely red dress she is wearing has torn all rational thought away from your patient (who you've decided is _dying_). For the rest of the evening, she's got a smug little smile plastered across her delicate features.

After the party – after Wilson has proclaimed himself poker champion, after you managed to save the dying boy just in time – you challenge Wilson (you have slowly begun speaking to one another, though you're sure he'll never be Jimmy to you ever again) to a quick game, just so he doesn't strut around for the next month, completely full of himself. You've cracked another inappropriate barnacle joke, and it's almost like a scene from years before. Then you see Cameron heading to the coatroom on her way out. Her hair has fallen from its earlier curled form, and hangs limply against her bare shoulders. The heels she'd worn all evening are held loosely in her hands, and she looks so exhausted that you're tempted to go after her and take her home. But you still can't get her voice out of your head. Because even though they were provoked by absolute fury, her words (_I hate you, okay?_) will forever haunt you.

And you're sure you won't be able to work up enough courage to make a liar out of her.

_  
Welcome to the first level of the third and final circle. Because in life you let yourself lust after her with no reward, in death you'll be tormented without reward. Trapped in a thick blanket of ice from the waist down, the object of your current desire (whatever it may be) will cross in front of you, just beyond your reach. And you'll have to relearn how to suffer.  
_

_  
Need_

You've been thinking about it for the last few minutes, and you honestly cannot figure out just how you came to be standing outside her apartment door. The moonlight is illuminating the hallway from the tiny window beside the door. You really can't remember your logic behind coming over here in the middle of the night, and you're beginning to wonder if there ever was any (that would be a first). Your cane has been poised at the ready to knock more than once, but every time you've withdrawn it, overcome with second-thoughts. This is seriously ridiculous. You've finally talked yourself into just knocking, when the door is swung open, and Cameron is standing there in sweats and a t-shirt, eyebrows raised in challenge. She asks you just how long you've been standing there and you shrug and say 'not long,' though you're pretty sure she can tell you're lying (she's gotten too good at reading you).

"It hurts." she says simply. You don't need her to clarify; you know she isn't thinking about your leg. Still, a hand flies to your right thigh, and even through the thick denim you can feel the pronounced scar. Cameron catches the (nearly) subtle gesture, and moves to usher you inside. But you step away, because suddenly you've figured out why you came here.

And you're already dependent on your pills. You don't need another addiction.

_You've reached the deepest level, one reserved for those driven by need. You've allowed yourself to become dependent on another, setting yourself up for inevitable pain. Eternity will see that you are hurt by everyone you trust, continuously. Because, of anyone, you should know that _everybody lies.

**  
"Do you remember when we first met and everything was still a bet?"  
**


End file.
